


It’s alright and it’s coming along

by CheapLemonIceLolly



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, Famous/Non-Famous Au, Is it enemies-to-lovers if one of them doesn’t know they’re enemies?, M/M, Pre-Relationship, but not in a furry way, team mascot au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 10:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16679959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheapLemonIceLolly/pseuds/CheapLemonIceLolly
Summary: Everyone loves Carlton the Bear, and nobody loves being loved like Dylan does.There’s only one downside, and that’s the hugging.  Not hugging in general - in general hugging is great - butspecifically, being hugged at the end of every victory by Mitch Marner is the absolute worst.Life long Leafs fan Dylan Strome gets a sweet gig playing Carlton the Bear at Leafs events in Toronto. Unfortunately the job comes with one major trial.





	It’s alright and it’s coming along

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Please prepare to suspend some disbelief regarding the Life of a Professional Mascot, I both don’t know how that works and did some clearly ridiculous things to fit my comical plot purposes. I think the real Carlton probably takes his head off a lot more than this backstage, but that wasn’t as funny. None of the Stromes are hockey players in this universe, but I did not bother to come up with a believable AU reason why, they’re just not. It’s not really a big deal I just thought it would be weird for Matt and Ryan to be hockey players and not Dylan. Also Danielle and Scott are Danielle Emanuele and Scott Willats, the Leafs in-arena hosts! They are both beautiful. That’s not plot relevant but it’s true.
> 
> Obviously the title is from the leafs’ victory song, Right Back Where We Started From by Maxine Nightingale

Being a professional mascot is a pretty sweet gig. Like, okay, the costume isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but the way people light up with joy whenever they see you in it is pretty amazing, as far as Dylan’s concerned. It’s like getting paid to make friends with people, which is the thing he’s probably best at in the world. He could high five a million gleeful elementary school students and middle aged drunk dudes and giggly teenage girls in Nylander jerseys and never get tired of it. Everyone loves Carlton the Bear, and nobody loves being loved like Dylan does.

There’s only one downside, and that’s the hugging. Not hugging in general - in _general_ hugging is great - but _specifically_ , being hugged at the end of every victory by Mitch Marner is the absolute _worst_.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with the way Marner hugs him, or whatever. It’s not even that Marner’s done anything especially bad to make Dylan hate him, outside the hugging ritual that started before Dylan got the job with the Leafs and will probably continue long after he’s moved on. It’s just…

He’s so _fake_. 

Like, seriously, nobody’s that nice to everyone he meets. Nobody’s that happy all the time. Dylan is the friendliest person around, and even he’s not the constantly radiant little ball of sunshine Mitch Marner pretends to be. It’s _annoying_.

The first time they met, Marner didn’t know who he was. Dylan barely knew who he was himself, or where he was going, just kind of wandering around in street clothes getting lost on his way to the PR office for the first time, when he came across Marner and Matthews on their way into the arena for practice. Matthews ignored him, which was perfectly normal famous person behaviour, but Marner pointed to his security pass and called out to him, with this blinding smile on his face.

"Hey! New guy!"

"Uh, yeah," Dylan had said awkwardly. "PR team. I’m...Dylan."

He should have said he was the new Carlton the Bear, since they were going to work together soon probably, but he forgot. So sue him. Marner and Matthews are kind of a lot to run into unexpectedly at the best of times, let alone on your first day.

"Awesome, I’m Mitch," Marner had sparkled unnecessarily back at him, like Dylan didn’t know who he fucking was. "Welcome to the Maple Leafs family, Dylan."

Like. Come _on_. Who says that, welcome to the family? It’s so cheesy. 

Worse than that, Matthews kind of smirked when he heard it, like he was trying not to laugh. It made Dylan feel like he was being made fun of, like this encounter was some kind of joke the two of them were going to laugh about later. Sick burn on that random staffer back there, man. Welcome to the family. Classic.

So, yeah, when Marner skates up to him on his way off the ice every time they win and Dylan has to throw his arms out and accept a tight, enthusiastic hug like they’re actually friends, it grates a little. Marner might not make the connection between Carlton and the random PR dude he and his buddy laughed at that one time, but that doesn’t matter. Dylan remembers it every time.

He doesn’t actually spend that much time with the team, though, especially at first. His job is mostly running around the arena with Danielle and Scott and throwing out free tshirts and dancing with kids and stuff like that, which is a workout, but it’s fun. Most importantly the only people laughing at him then are people he’s _inviting_ to laugh at him. 

So who cares about Mitch Marner, anyway. Fuck him.

*

"I can’t believe your work nemesis is Mitch fucking Marner," Matt says. "Not, like...someone mean or big or threatening in any way, _Mitch Marner._ "

"Fuck you, he’s not my _nemesis._ "

It’s a lazy Friday afternoon with no game on and no other work stuff to do, so Dylan _thought_ he’d spend some quality video game time with his asshole brother and, like, catch him up on the goings on of Dylan’s life at the same time. But Matt’s decided to fixate on this one stupid thing, and it’s like even when he’s not at work Dylan can’t escape.

"You couldn’t pick someone to hate who’s not a literal fucking teddy bear?"

"Hey, _I’m_ the literal fucking teddy bear," Dylan says. "And I don't hate him. I just think he’s a dick."

Matt scoffs. "Didn’t you say you’re going to Sick Kids with him tomorrow? What a monster, hanging out at a children’s hospital on his day off."

"No, see," Dylan scowls, "that’s my whole point. I’m not going to Sick Kids with _Good Guy_ Mitch Marner because he just _decided_ to hang out at a children’s hospital on his day off. It’s like, part of his job to do that stuff. They all do it. But people think he’s soooo nice and soooo wonderful because, what, he’s cute and he smiles too much and--"

 

Matt looks at him and raises his eyebrows knowingly. "Oh, so you think he’s _cute_ now?"

"Shut up, it’s a figure of speech," Dylan snaps, glaring at the tv. On screen, he misses an easy shot and then immediately dies. "Fucking cute, smug, rich, charmed life _asshole_." He tosses his controller aside and slumps back on the couch, crossing his arms. "Maybe I’ll get lucky and one of the kids’ll throw up on him tomorrow or something."

Matt snorts. "That’s the spirit. Maybe you’ll just get lucky, since he’s so _cute_."

"Fucking--" Dylan grimaces. He wishes he’d never said anything in the first place. "Shut your mouth or I’m gonna throw up on _you_."

*

None of the kids throw up on Marner at the Sick Kids visit, but he does hug Dylan like eight _million_ times. Dylan’s not supposed to speak when he’s in costume and the kids might hear him, either, so he can’t vent his feelings through excessive sarcasm like he normally would. Instead he grits his teeth inside the big overly hot bear head and poses for photos and high fives little kids and their parents and tries to pretend Marner isn’t there. Everyone including Dylan has got little teddy bear versions of him - of Carlton, that is - to hand out to the kids, which is pretty cute, and it gives him an excuse to slip away from Marner and visit with some kids without him, since they’re trying to get to as many kids as possible who want to see them. It’s a small relief.

 

Still, Marner’s hard to avoid, especially when the PR handler who’s herding everyone around the hospital grabs Dylan by his furry arm and pulls him over to the room Marner’s currently in, because they’ll "look adorable together in the photos."

The room’s kind of full, what with the camera crew and the family of the little girl in the big white hospital bed, and now Dylan stuck in the doorway dwarfing everybody with his giant bear head. But to look at them you’d think Marner and the girl were the only people in the room. He’s climbed up onto the bed with her on his knees like a little kid himself, paying rapt attention as the girl hands him each of her toys in turn and explains them to him.

And like. Okay. Even Dylan has to admit it’s fairly heartwarming. And, you know, it’s got to be hard for Marner to keep from mugging for the cameras too. He’s set his need to be the most popular person in the room aside long enough to make a little kid feel better about being in hospital, so that’s...nice.

It definitely doesn’t make Dylan like him any more, but it’s nice.

Less nice is when Dylan’s trying to find a bathroom big enough to wrangle the Carlton suit in and he finds Marner alone in a back corridor, sitting with his head in his hands.

Dylan’s not supposed to talk in the Carlton suit but there’s nobody around. And he can’t just _leave_. He compromises by leaving his bear head on.

"Um," he says tentatively, slightly muffled. "Are you okay?"

Marner looks up, startled. He looks kind of pale and red eyed, but as soon as he registers the Leafs jersey and the fuzzy smiling bear face he blinks away that momentary glimpse of something real and beams at Dylan like his life depends on it. Dylan doesn’t know what else he was expecting, but his heart sinks a little anyway.

"Yeah, of course," Marner says easily. "Did they send you to find me?"

"No," Dylan tells him, feeling irritation settle over him like a familiar, itchy blanket. "I just...found you."

"Oh," Marner says, and he’s still smiling but it looks a little strained. "Okay." He looks down at his hands for a moment, making no move to get up, and Dylan wants to leave him there but he feels like he shouldn’t, somehow. Eventually Marner says, "D’you ever feel like you should have done something better with your life?"

"What?" Dylan frowns. "Dude. You’re living every Toronto kid’s dream right now. What’s better than that?"

"No, I know, and I’m grateful. I didn’t mean _better_ I meant...you know, saving kids from cancer and shit, something...worthy, I don’t know."

Dylan frowns harder. The way he sees it, being a doctor or whatever is great, but not everyone can do that. Giving people something to care about, giving sick kids a reason to smile, those are worthy things too; no need to be grateful for anything. Not that he’s saving the world being a hockey mascot, or whatever, but he’s doing his bit to make life a little less miserable for at least some people, and that feels worthwhile, at least for now. It irritates him that Marner doesn’t seem to see that, irritates him and also makes him feel...kind of disappointed? Whether _in_ Marner or _for_ Marner, he’s not really sure.

It’s annoying. He doesn’t _want_ to feel sorry for this smug millionaire jock. He doesn’t say anything, which Marner seems to take as comforting silence or something, because it doesn’t take him long to perk up again.

"Every kid, huh. That include you, Carlton?" he says, looking up at Dylan with his big artificial smile again. "You ever dream of playing for the Leafs?"

Dylan can’t tell anymore whether Marner’s actively making fun of him or if his stupid face just looks like that naturally. He’s fucking fed up with it, fed up with the way Marner’s voice sounds a breath away from laughing every time he speaks, and the way he smiles with his whole face, and the way Dylan feels every time he does; momentarily charmed and then fucking furious about it because he knows it’s not real. 

Dylan shrugs his dumb furry bear shoulders and says irritably, "I mean yeah, who didn’t? But gay guys don’t get to play in the NHL, so."

There. Suck on _that_ Mitch Marner. Let’s see him hold on to that famous nice guy attitude now he knows he’s getting up close and personal with a gay dude after every game. Hockey staff might be getting younger and more diverse and more progressive with it, but Dylan’s willing to bet the players aren’t.

"Oh," says Marner. He blinks at Dylan and Dylan narrows his eyes and waits for him to follow up with something shitty that will finally confirm every suspicion he has about him. But after a moment Marner shrugs. "Well. Sometimes they do."

He flashes Dylan yet another smile - although it’s not the big flashy look-how-nice-I-am smile but a little soft one, maybe even a self-deprecating one - and then he gets up and walks away.

Dylan watches him go and feels kind of like that one time an adorable little kid in a Connor McDavid jersey ran up to him mid game and hit him as hard as she could right in the gut with both tiny fists. He definitely was not prepared for _that_.

*

"Doesn’t mom feed you two at home anymore?" Ryan says, coming into the kitchen. Dylan’s leaning halfway into the pantry cupboard to find the spare chips Ryan always stashes up the back, so his answer probably comes out muffled.

"If you didn’t want us dropping in you shouldn’t have given me a key."

"I just don’t know why dropping in always has to mean eating all my food," Ryan retorts, but he doesn’t sound mad so Dylan doesn’t stop rummaging.

" _I’m_ not eating your food," Matt says helpfully. "It’s Dyl. He always gets hungry when he’s lovesick."

 _That_ makes Dylan stand up so fast he bashes his head on a shelf. He whirls around, clutching the bag of chips to his chest. "I’m not _lovesick_ what the _fuck_."

"Wanna guess who he’s lovesick about?" Matt grins, ignoring him. Ryan rolls his eyes.

"Mitch Marner, duh."

Dylan makes a noise somewhere between horror and outrage and throws the chips at Ryan’s head.

"Oh, come on," Ryan says, catching the bag easily. "You haven’t stopped talking about the guy since you started working there." He examines the chips and then shrugs and opens them. "It’s pretty obvious you’ve got a killer crush, bro."

As brothers go, Matt and Ryan are pretty great, but they’re still a couple of straight guys. They’re accepting and positive and all that PFLAG shit but they’re also weirdly obsessed with the idea of Dylan having crushes on guys, as if they think every guy he has any kind of interaction with is about to be their new brother-in-law. He supposes it’s their weirdass way of making sure he knows they support him, but in this particularly annoying case it’s _not cute_.

"Look, I don’t really know how straight crushes work?" he says grumpily. "But hating someone’s guts isn’t usually foreplay, for normal people."

"I thought you said you didn’t hate him," Matt smirks. "You just think he has a cute dick."

Ryan makes a face, mouth full of chips. "When did you see his dick?"

"I’m an only child," Dylan says, shoving Matt hard enough to make him stumble. "That is so-- you’re seriously mangling my words. Also you’re full of shit. _Also--_ "

"Look, we’re just worried about you, okay?" Ryan says, trying to look concerned and mature while up to his elbow in a bag of chips. Meanwhile Matt’s trying to get Dylan back for the shove, and he’s shot up in the last year, so Dylan actually has to fight to keep the upper hand now. He’s only half listening when Ryan says, "Having a crush on someone you work with is one thing, but this is a whole different level. It could go really badly if you’re not careful, you know?"

"I don’t have a _crush_ on _anyone_ ," Dylan squawks from the headlock Matt somehow has him in. "If you want to worry about me, worry about how I’m going to cope in prison after I’ve fucking snapped and _murdered_ Mitch Marner and dumped his body in the lake."

"Oh, well," Ryan says, shaking his head, "no wonder you’re in prison if you dumped it in the _lake_. Rookie mistake. You should’ve called us for help."

Dylan gives him a very dark look. "Yes, but who am I going to call when I’ve murdered _you?_ "

"Dunno," Ryan grins and flicks a chip at him. "Maybe Marner’s got some ideas."

*

Dylan’s minding his own business, making his way through the crowded corridors so he can get back to the PR office and get his damn costume off, when someone calls his name. Well, not _his_ name, but close enough to make him turn around.

"Hey Carlton, you lost?"

"Uh not r--" he starts to say, but Marner’s already grabbed hold of his arm and started steering him through the organised chaos of everyone’s post game routine. Which, like, Dylan’s been here for months at this point, he knows his way around and he hasn’t got lost in at least a week. But Marner’s stronger than he looks and Dylan can’t really shake him off without looking like a dick.

"Don’t worry, I got you," Marner says cheerfully, heading in completely the wrong direction. "I know a shortcut."

It is most definitely not a shortcut, but before long they’re well away from the crowds. There’s only a few people around, all walking purposefully and none paying any attention to the hockey player and the giant bear taking up half the width of the corridor.

"Okay, confession," Marner says. "This isn’t really a shortcut."

"You don’t say," Dylan says dryly. He didn’t take his mask off earlier because it’s big and unwieldy, and it would’ve just gotten in the way in the crowd. Now he leaves it on because...well, he’s not quite sure what’s going on here and it feels like his last line of defense.

Marner stops, checks both ways down the empty corridor and then looks up at Dylan’s smiling bear face.

"So what you said before, at the hospital. Did you mean…" he swallows, and then lowers his voice. "Are you gay?"

"Are _you?_ " Dylan shoots back. It’s a little harsher than he meant it to be, but it’s kind of a personal thing to ask someone you barely know, even if Dylan hadn’t been _perfectly_ clear the first time. And the _way_ he said it, like it’s some kind of dangerous secret, puts Dylan on the defensive, a little bit.

Marner looks kind of startled by the question for a second, but then he sticks out his chin and looks Dylan right in the eyes. Or as near as he can through the Carlton mask, anyway.

"Yeah," he says.

Oh.

Like, Dylan had sort of assumed something like that after what he said at the hospital, but hearing him say it like this, unequivocal and even a little defiant, makes him feel…

Weird. It’s weird. He wouldn’t know how else to describe it.

"I don’t, um. I don’t really know anyone else who is. Apart from you, I mean."

You don’t even really know _me_ , Dylan thinks, but he’s kind enough not to say it out loud. Ugh, he’s going soft.

"Well…" he tries. "Maybe you should try and meet some people."

Mitch snorts. "Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna go out and meet some _gay people_ in _Toronto_. Go to a couple of bars and hook up with some dudes, no biggie. That definitely won’t raise any eyebrows."

"I didn’t say _hook up with some dudes_ ," Dylan rolls his eyes. "There’s, like, social clubs and shit." Not that he’s ever been in a social club - he has gay friends already - but they’re out there, he’s pretty sure. "Join a gay book club or something, I don’t know."

Dylan is definitely not going to adopt a baby gay hockey player he doesn’t even like, no matter how long his stupid eyelashes look from this angle. He’s _not_. Mitch frowns for a second, chewing on his bottom lip, and then he switches to a blinding smile so suddenly it gives Dylan whiplash.

"Okay," he says brightly. "Thanks man, good talk." And before Dylan can say anything he’s being hugged, not a ritual victory hug or a being-cute-for-the-kids hug but a proper, personal sort of hug where Mitch presses his face into his shoulder and squeezes him tight. Like he’s actually grateful, not just pretending to be nice.

Dylan gives him a couple of bracing back pats, because that seems like the right thing to do. And then he leans against the wall and watches Mitch bounce cheerfully back down the corridor the way they came, because he needs a minute to just...well. Reset his entire outlook on life, if he’s being honest.

He is definitely not telling his brothers about this.

*

For the next week the team has a roadie, and Dylan mercifully does not have to perform mascot duties outside of Toronto so he gets a little break from...everything. There’s still work stuff to do, but he doesn’t have to see Mitch at all, unless you count seeing his face blown up several stories high on the jumbotron when he accidentally wanders into a tech run inside the arena. There’s absolutely no call for the way his heart jumps into his throat at that stupid intense slow looking up shot they keep using for player graphics this season, because he definitely does _not_ have a crush. Mitch doesn’t really even look good in that video anyway, he looks like...like an angry chipmunk. It’s not hot.

Dylan certainly didn’t miss all the hugging. That first game back, when the Leafs lose to the Penguins and he doesn’t get— doesn’t _have_ to hug Mitch is a huge relief. And the only reason he lets Mitch pull him aside after the game is because he looks like it’s important.

"I did it," he says, eyes shining with triumph. "I looked up this gay bookshop when we were in LA, and I went there and I, like, talked to people."

He looks so fucking proud of himself, Dylan doesn’t know how to stop himself from smiling back. Not that Mitch can see his face, because he hasn’t taken the bear head off, but he must be able to hear it in Dylan’s voice.

"Hey, good for you. How’d it go?"

Dylan wonders what it means that he only ever seems to talk to Mitch Marner with his face hidden.

"Yeah, good, awesome actually," Mitch says, nodding. He’s talking a little fast, a little breathless maybe, like the thrill is still wearing off. "Met some people, got a few new snapchat buddies, got some advice on some...stuff, which seems good. So uh, thanks. For suggesting that."

"Sure," Dylan says. Because of course Mitch Marner walked into a new place where nobody knew who he was and made a bunch of friends instantaneously. Of course. And then, without apparently bothering to involve his brain or any thought process at all, his mouth opens up and says, "Did you meet anyone special?" For fuck’s sake, he sounds like his own mother.

Mitch’s smile broadens like Dylan’s said something funny. He hums consideringly and then shakes his head. "Nah, no one _special_. But friends are good too, right?"

Dylan nods, and tries not to examine the feeling of contentment that settles over him. It _isn’t_ relief. Shut up.

Mitch gives him this amused, slightly searching look. "So are you, like...hot under there or what?" Dylan nearly chokes.

"Are you asking if I’m uncomfortable, or are you...are you seriously hitting on a guy in a giant bear costume?"

Mitch laughs, bright and unselfconscious as ever. "Bit of both maybe," he shrugs, and Dylan tells the butterflies that suddenly start fluttering around in his stomach to sit the fuck down. The only time Mitch ever saw his actual face, he _directly mocked_ him with that whole welcome to the family thing, which was obviously not supposed to be genuine. Almost certainly. Probably not, anyway. Who says something like that and actually means it?

Probably the same kind of person who cries over whether he could be doing more to help sick children, Dylan’s brain supplies helpfully. He tells it to fuck off.

"You don’t even know what I look like," he says out loud. "How do you know I’m not, like, forty years old or something?"

"Are you?" Mitch says, tilting his head curiously. "Cause if you are, kudos man. All that running around at games. You’re in good shape for an old guy. Uh, don’t tell Patty I called forty old."

Dylan doesn’t mean to, but he huffs out a laugh in spite of himself. Mitch’s face lights up like making Dylan laugh is winning the lottery.

And okay, maybe this time Dylan doesn’t hate how that feels.

*

Dylan waits until they’re deep into the semi-annual Strome Family Mighty Ducks Marathon before he says anything. Matt looks like he’s falling asleep on the other end of the couch, one hand trailing in the half-empty popcorn bowl, which is probably the ideal time to bring this up. Dylan clears his throat before he speaks anyway, suddenly nervous.

"So, okay," he says. "Don’t read into this or anything, but...do you think it’d be, like, morally wrong to ask someone you work with out on a date?"

Matt sits bolt upright and stares at him. So not that close to asleep, then.

"I said don’t read into it," Dylan says warningly, because Matt’s already grinning at him, maniacally wide-eyed. "Nothing’s happened. Or is going to happen. This is just a thought exercise about no one specific, alright?"

"Alright, a thought exercise" says Matt, clearly not respecting the spirit of philosophical inquiry at all. He looks about ten seconds from clapping his hands with glee. Dylan has made a terrible mistake. "So...does this non-specific work person seem like they’d be into it if I asked them out?"

Dylan narrows his eyes. He presses his lips together, trying to work out how to answer in the least incriminating way possible. Finally, and very reluctantly, he gives in and says, "Yeah."

"Holy shit, dude," Matt says. "Like...that’s...holy _shit_."

He looks so fucking dumb, gaping at Dylan like he’s sprouted an extra head, that Dylan can’t help but laugh. He feels a little wild, like what even is his life? "I’m not saying I’m going to do anything," he says quickly. "I don’t even know if I want to."

Matt sits back, shaking his head dazedly. "Shit, I’m not even gay and if I got a chance to fuck a Leaf I’d totally do it."

"Classy," Dylan says, stretching out one leg so his can kick him in the side from across the couch. "I’m gonna tell that story at your wedding one day."

"Oh fuck off," Matt laughs, "I’m gonna tell this story at _your_ wedding to fucking M--"

" _Hey_ ," Dylan kicks him again, "I said not to read anything into it."

"Oh, for sure, for sure," Matt holds up both hands placatingly. "Totally hypothetical, one hundred per cent. Hey, just hypothetically, would this hypothetically mean you can get me invited to family skates?"

"No, because I’ve disowned you," Dylan tells him. "Anyway, _hypothetically_ it’s not like he’s out or anything. I don’t know if it would even be more than one date."

"Still," Matt says.

Dylan smiles a bit in spite of himself. "Yeah," he says. "Still."

*

For the very first time, Dylan is the one who seeks Mitch out.

Not right away. First he has to built himself up to it, because if he’s actually going to do this - a completely insane idea, by the way, as if a person who’s literally a household name in Toronto would be interested in _him_ , he must be out of his mind - he’s going to need a run up to it.

But, eventually, he makes his move. 

"Hey, um...Mitch? Have you got a minute?"

It’s a move that ends up in a supply closet, because Dylan is an absolute failure as a human being. Also it’s after a game, because Dylan’s come to rely on the safety of his Carlton costume for having difficult conversations, and anyway he’s pretty sure Mitch wouldn’t recognise him out of it anyway. And once they’re actually _in_ the supply closet the bear head is huge and ridiculous, and Mitch looks tired and probably distracted but he’s looking up at Dylan attentively anyway, and his hair’s somehow shower-damp and fluffy at the same time and sticking up all over the place which Dylan would once have found annoying but now finds...annoyingly endearing, and…

This was a terrible plan. Dylan’s in over his head. He really didn’t think this through.

"You know what," he says, "actually, never mind. It can wait until. I don’t know. Some other time." Never, probably. And he turns around - shuffles, really, in the limited space - to leave.

"Hey, come on," Mitch says softly, touching his elbow. "You asked me in here. Are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?"

Dylan turns around, and Mitch is right there, real close, hand still on Dylan’s arm. The suit’s padded to make him look bigger and bear shaped, so Dylan must just be imagining that he can feel the heat of Mitch’s palm through the fabric, but he feels like his skin is burning.

"If it helps," Mitch says, "I’m gonna say yes."

What Dylan was going to say catches in his throat with a humiliating hiccuping noise.

"Uh," he croaks. "You’re not, like...a furry or something, are you?"

Mitch stares at him blankly for a full five seconds, and then cracks up.

"Oh my god," he wheezes. "Not the question I was thinking of."

"It’s really the most _pressing_ question," says Dylan, gesturing at his white fluffy fur suit.

"No it’s not, you loser," Mitch beams up at him, and punches him in the arm. "You should take your head off. Your bear head I mean."

"But you didn’t—"

"Dylan, will you just take off the fucking bear head?"

Dylan takes off the fucking bear head. He can only imagine what he looks like with his tiny human head sticking up out of the big bear costume, all red-faced and sweaty and wild-haired, but Mitch’s smile gets even bigger when he sees his face. Dylan wouldn’t have thought it was possible.

"Hey new guy," he says warmly.

"Hey," Dylan says. And then, when he realises what just happened, " _Hey_ , you called me Dylan."

"I mean, that’s your name isn’t it?" says Mitch. He’s still smiling like a madman.

"Well, yeah, but...you called me that before you saw my face. How’d you know I was…"

"Bud," Mitch laughs. "You know your voice sounds the same in the bear mask, right?"

Dylan stares at him for a second. "You remembered my voice?" he says, dumbfounded. From that one tiny interaction on his very first day?

"I try and remember everyone," Mitch tells him, shrugging. 

And yeah, Dylan’s seen him greeting security guards by name and asking PR ladies how their kids are doing in school and stuff, that was all part of the pathological niceness Dylan used to find so goddamn annoying. But...he literally only saw Dylan for ten seconds one time, that’s... 

Mitch turns slightly pink. "And besides, I uh...thought you looked worth remembering." Dylan’s face feels hot. He must be staring but he’s having trouble doing anything else. "I thought maybe I’d kinda built you up in my head but...nope. Better than I remembered."

"Wow," Dylan says blinking. "Uh. Smooth."

"Right?" says Mitch. "You’re getting, like, all my best material here. So are you gonna ask me out or what?"

Dylan leans back against the wall which would be a much cooler move if he wasn’t wearing a big cuddly bear costume from the neck down. And, like, if he wasn’t doing it because he feels a little wobbly with shock. "I don’t know, now. If I’m getting all your best material now, what’s left for the date?"

Dylan’s seen Mitch smile almost constantly for months now, over half a season, but somehow the smile he gives him this time is an all new one. This one feels like an invitation, a promise and a challenge all rolled into one.

"You’ll never know if you don’t ask, will you?"

And like. Dylan has to know. So he asks.

For all his other faults, it turns out Mitch Marner is true to his word, at least. He says yes.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by an anon prompt from tumblr! _"Are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?" dylan/mitch_ I took my sweet time building up to the prompt but thank you for inspiring this, anon! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @lemonicelolly


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